CHAPTER 15
THE BOUNDARIES OF
PROFESSIONALISM

IT was hard for Iris to wake up the next morning. Due to the caffeine running through her system last night, she hardly got a wink of sleep. She was dreadfully tired, hanging by the end of the imaginary rope that was currently dragging her out of bed. When she hauled herself over to the bathroom, the reflection of herself in the mirror was almost enough to wake her. She jumped at the sight of the dried mascara crusting underneath her lashes and laying in tiny clumps across her cheeks. She must've been so tired last night that she forgot to take any of it off. At least, she managed to put on her pajamas.

Exhaustion wasn't new to her. At this point, Iris was fully aware that your late twenties were all about going to bed at four AM every night, forgetting to wash off your makeup, and maybe kissing your coworker – or close to it. And also disregarding that your thirties were just a few years away. She was always used to a routine.

As she arrived at the police station in a prompt manner, Iris was pretty sure that she looked like she just rolled out of a sewer. Her dress shirt wasn't tucked into her pants. She was definitely wearing two mismatched socks. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed. She didn't bother to check how bad her eye bags were before she left, but from the way Charlie was staring at her as she approached her desk, she didn't want to know.

"You look terrible," Charlie exclaimed, jumping out of her seat as Iris tried to settle into her own. "Jesus!"

So much for not knowing.

Iris narrowed her eyes in Charlie's direction. "Thanks," she said through clenched teeth. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Well, obviously." Charlie's red lips pulled into a sly grin. "Another night out with Detective Grayson, I presume?"

"Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?" Iris scoffed, pushing the stacks of papers to the side of her keyboard. Her desk was an absolute mess. "This isn't funny. I'm not hooking up with my partner –"

The curly-haired woman shook her head. Her smug smile never ceased. "You're not slick, Kingsley. Not at all. I always see you guys talking when you think no one's watching. If you guys are trying to act like you're not dating, you're both not very good at it."

Iris stood, pointing a stern finger in Charlie's face. "We're not dating!" She whispered loudly. "Can you get that through your brain? We. Are. Not. Dating. Leave it alone!"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she sighed, turning her head over her shoulder. Both of their eyes lingered on the office in the back corner, where Dick sat idly at his computer, tapping a pen hard enough that Iris was sure the desk would break. She shook her head, and Charlie turned back to her before she could register it.

"By the way," Charlie continued, "I think Chief wants to see you. He was looking for you earlier. Something about following up on a drowning case."

Iris smacked her forehead. "Shit, I really gotta get on that. I've hardly looked into it."

With a soft hmph, Charlie retreated back to her desk. Iris huffed loudly, meeting Dick's stare from across the room, before sitting down in her chair and acting as if nothing happened. Looking at the scattered papers across her desk, she wondered where she put that file for the drowning case. Iris began filtering through all the folders piled around her. It had to be around here somewhere. She hardly touched the file in the first place!

Frustrated with her own incompetence, Iris sat still for a minute and rubbed at her eyes. She loved her work most days. It was part of her daily routine and always kept her on her toes. But this was not one of those days. All she wanted was to crawl back into bed and sleep for eternity.

Iris was so caught up in her own problems that she hardly noticed a person approach her desk. He knocked on the side of her cubicle, but she didn't look up, only continued to sort through the folders cluttered by her old computer. Eventually, he cleared his throat, and Iris almost jumped out of her seat at the noise.

"Oh," she muttered, viewing up at Dick with a hand over her chest, "it's just you. Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Good morning to you too, I guess," he quipped, tipping his empty coffee cup back and forth.

She frowned. "I'm sorry. I'm just really busy. I need to find this stupid file. Angeles is looking for me –"

"Well, then I hope this will only take up a few minutes of your time."

"Doubt it," she shrugged, giving him a side-eye. "I've noticed that you ramble when you don't know what to say sometimes."

"Iris!"

She looked up to see who whispered, only to see Charlie peering over the edge of the wall. Her coworker raised her brows in Iris' direction as a warning. "Listen to what he has to say," she continued to whisper.

Both Iris and Dick shared a look. "You know he can see you, right?" Iris asked, before eventually holding up her hands in surrender. "I really don't have time for this. You two can have a conversation without me."

Dick stopped her with a wave of his hand. "It's just – I have an important question for you –"

"Not as important as me finding this folder –"

"But it is –"

"Don't think so –"

"Iris," he said, softer this time, but loud enough for her to recognize the seriousness behind it. She lifted her head in his direction, noticing the tiny twinkle in his eye, and the curve of his lips when their eyes met. It almost made her forget how disheveled she looked today. "I just –"

She lifted a brow. Charlie was practically waiting on the edge of her seat from behind the wall.

"I was wondering if –" He pinched the bridge of his nose, pausing for a short moment. "– If you would have a drink with me tonight."

Charlie hit the top of the cubicle wall and cried, "I knew it!"

With an irritated expression, Iris bopped Charlie's head and pushed her back down in her desk chair. She hesitated, swallowing hard, before turning back to face Dick. She hoped he couldn't see the anxiety written all over her face.

"Not coffee, I hope?" She asked, trying to make the conversation less awkward. "I can see why you drink Jillian's. That shit kept me up all night."

He rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously. "No, um – not coffee. I was thinking a beer at that dive bar down the street?"

Oh, no, she thought to herself. This wasn't just any drink. This was a date. A date date. Fuck no. She couldn't say yes, right?

Iris played with one of her rings, biting down on her bottom lip, before connecting their gazes again. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Dick tilted his head and glanced away. "Well –"

"Like, isn't that unprofessional?" She continued, arching a brow. "We are coworkers, after all."

"I'm going to be frank with you, Iris," he said, trying to stop his lips from curling into a contagious smile. "I think we might've overstepped the boundaries of professionalism a long time ago."

Charlie almost did a spit take from behind the wall. Iris rubbed at her forehead.

"I just ..." Iris trailed off. She needed to let him down easily, but good enough to still be friends. "I don't know. I'm tired and still busy with a lot of shit –"

"She'll go!"

Iris' eyes went wide at Charlie's exclamation, realizing that her cube mate was standing on her side with a hand sprung high in the air. She shook her head towards Charlie, as if to say, What the FUCK are you doing?!

Charlie nodded. The two acknowledged each other in a silent argument that only they could understand. Dick looked back and forth between them. He tried to decipher whatever secret language they were speaking, but it was beyond him. Eventually, Iris groaned, wrinkling her nose as she turned to Dick once again.

"I guess ..." She said, licking her lips. "I guess I can make time for a drink tonight."

His mouth formed into a big grin, possibly the happiest she'd ever seen him look. "Great, awesome. We can drive over in my car. I – uh –" His smile was never-ending, a constant reminder of the mistake she might've just made. But if she were being honest, his happiness made a tiny butterfly flutter in her stomach. "I'll see you later then?

Iris nodded, forcing a smile. This might be one of the worst decisions she's ever made.

•••

After enduring a long conversation with Mr. Angeles about her responsibilities as a lead detective, Iris went back to her desk and absorbed herself in the new case Chief so desperately wanted her to work on. (Apparently, he had gotten calls from the victim's family about nothing being done.) She treated this like a hibernation technique: she was going to hole up at her desk and not come out until next summer – at best.

However, she now had a date tonight. As much as Iris wanted to stay here for eternity and completely forget about it, she knew being an asshole was completely unfair to Dick given how much he's done for her. She wasn't totally heartless. And besides, it was just a drink.

Around four-thirty, Iris noticed Dick slam his office shut and run out of the building. At first, she assumed he was just going out for his evening coffee, but he never came back. Is he going to the bar early? She wondered with an arched brow. Iris was certainly not moving from her seat. In fact, she worked later than usual because she was so caught up in her research. She learned a long time ago that being fashionably late wasn't a crime, even though she was not the textbook definition of fashionable. Dick wouldn't mind.

Iris tugged on her green parka after shutting down her computer for the night. She gathered her things and headed outside, nodding goodbye to the night shift officers just getting in. As she entered the frigid air, she suddenly remembered that Dick was going to drive her over to the bar with him. Why did he leave so early then? Iris whipped her head from side to side. No sign of the silver Porsche.

Maybe it was stupid to think that he was waiting for her at her apartment. Maybe it was stupid to believe that this was happening at all, but Iris still headed back to her place, under the assumption that she'd see that little, silver Porsche parked outside her apartment building. She endured another thirty-minute train ride, only to walk back to her building in the freezing cold and not see Dick's car anywhere.

Iris stood outside her building for a few minutes. Longer than she anticipated. At least, she had a cigarette in her hands to keep her company. Taking a long drag, Iris finally came to the haunting conclusion that she had been stood up. By Dick Grayson, out of all people. She'd never been stood up. Granted, she didn't normally go on dates either.

"Asshole," she mumbled to herself, finishing off the last of her cigarette. With an irritated huff, Iris threw it onto the cold concrete and stomped on it with the heel of her boot.

Looks like she was spending her night with another rerun of Friends and a can of tomato soup. Or maybe she'd watch something else this time. As Iris trudged up the stairs to her apartment, she wondered when was the last time she watched Full House. She remembered when her parents used to let her watch it past her bedtime as a kid. What a nice way to spend a Friday night.

Iris told herself that she hadn't been looking forward to meeting up with Dick. It was going to be a waste of time. She was overtired and needed more sleep. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was to have a drink with him. She didn't care about being stood up. This was a good thing ... right?

(Wrong.)

She plucked her keys from one of the pockets inside her parka, approaching her front door with a sigh full of exhaustion and fatigue. But, like always, Iris still had her wits about her, and she managed to turn her head just enough to notice that Josh's apartment door was open.

Looking from side to side, Iris didn't see anyone in sight. She approached the door quietly, hand brushing over the surface, and pushing it open. Lifting her head, she realized the symbolic plaque that had once been hung above the apartment number was gone. There wasn't a trace of it left, besides the nail that was used to hang it.

Iris was smart. She followed the rules. She knew very well that it was against code to go into a place of residence without a search warrant, but this was different. This wasn't some legal matter. It was suddenly personal.

She peaked her head in before pushing the door open fully and walking inside. The air was quiet – a hauntingly kind of quiet that made a chill run up her spine. She had never even seen a sliver of what Josh's apartment looked like, but here it was: unlocked and open for everyone to see. It almost had the same set up as her own: kitchenette in the back, living room right near the door, and the rest of the small rooms located behind the small kitchen. He had a dinosaur of a computer sat on a desk right near the living room, papers strewn all around it.

The apartment wasn't just messy. It was trashed. The fridge door remained opened. Couch pillows were scattered around the carpet. At least every cabinet or drawer was open and rid of the belongings inside of it. A cold breeze filtered through the opened windows. Various items were dispersed along the floor.

Someone had been in here.

Iris held a hand to her chest as she realized the inevitable was happening. She gripped the doorframe for support, but nothing seemed to be able to hold her upright. All the air left her lungs, and she crouched down to heave and heave until she could get an ounce of the oxygen that had once been there. Everything felt dizzy, but she never felt more coherent.

The place was completely ransacked. The plaque was now gone. That could only mean one thing.

The Coatls had been here, and they were close.

•••

A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

I hope y'all are ready for the next couple of chapters 🥴 you guys have seen NOTHIN yet